


bon voyage

by coffeesuperhero



Series: Family Pond 'verse [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Disclaimers</b>:  This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, BBC, and their various subsidiaries. David is a <a href="http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/profile">pocky_slash</a> creation.</p>
    </blockquote>





	bon voyage

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers** : This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, BBC, and their various subsidiaries. David is a [pocky_slash](http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/profile) creation.

Aurora moves to New York for a year after she wraps up university, off to work for Random House. Amy and Rory fret quietly over her in Heathrow, asking for the thousandth time if she's remembered her passport, her mobile, her credit cards, and she's suddenly quite glad that Ty had to sit for some ridiculous exam and couldn't come to see her off today. He'd kissed her lingeringly enough last night at her unofficial going-away party, anyway, and though she will certainly miss him, he's working on being a doctor and she hates feeling like a distraction.

"I'll phone every day," he had promised, squeezing her hand gently.

"And run up my bill, of course," she had laughed. "We'll Skype, you idiot."

He really has been a very good boyfriend. One of these days she's going to drop to one knee and propose, but they've got a few years ahead of them before she thinks they're ready for that. Alfie and Carlos, who are already practically married and are constantly texting each other nothing but endearments-- she can't believe that her best mate calls anyone, "Pickle," and yet, she's seen the texts-- think she should just get on with it, but she keeps waving off their questions.

"I'm not ready!" she told them, the last time they brought it up, which was the day before yesterday at her official going-away party, held at Martha and Mickey's.

The party had been pretty splendid, though. She hadn't expected such a turn-out, but then, she wasn't supposed to have expected anything at all, given that the entire party had been intended as a surprise.

"If you want to keep things quiet, you really shouldn't tell Donna," Aurora had laughed, when she failed utterly at looking surprised. Her friends and family had laughed, too, and then Donna had toasted her with a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

Everyone she loves had dropped by at some point: friends from uni, her dear old grandparents, even the Doctor and her sister, who had given her the biggest hug of all and then slipped her a small case, which turned out to contain, of course, hallucinogenic lipstick and some psychic paper.

"Just in case," River had said, winking ostentatiously, and Aurora had laughed and hugged her again.

She's got a small stash of lovely presents from that party, all neatly tucked into her carry-on, a beautiful bright green bag, which was itself a gift from the Doctor.

"River tells me these are very cool, at least in the fifty-first century," he had said, beaming at her.

She gave him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, thank you. Very cool."

With all of the things she decided she absolutely had to bring with her, it's really a very good thing the bag turned out to be bigger on the inside. She pats it fondly, and Rory narrows his eyes at it.

"Look, are you sure that won't be a problem with security?"

"Yes, dad," she says, for what feels like the millionth time. "River explained the whole thing, remember?"

"Oh, come on, Rory, where's that old sense of adventure," Amy says, punching him on the arm.

"It's really very fascinating technology," Brook begins, and Aurora pats her on the arm to forestall a long-winded Doctor-esque explanation.

"I know, love," she says, shaking her head, "but I really do need to go through security, now. Don't want to miss my flight-- if I get in any later, Canton and David will turn into pumpkins waiting on me to get in."

"It would take more advanced technology than they have in JFK in 2011 to turn Uncle David into a pumpkin," Brook frowns, "but I see your point." She hugs her aunt.

"You're sure you've got everything," Rory says, but before Aurora can respond, he grins at her and says, "just kidding. A bit of fun for your old dad. I won't be able to tease you in person for a year."

She hugs him and then her mum, who says, "Give us a ring every once in awhile, yeah?"

"Of course," she promises, and picks up the handle of her suitcase. "Love you all, goodbye for now!"

\+ + + +

When Brook is eighteen, she hugs her grandparents, grabs her sonic and her coolest hat and laces up her favorite pair of Chuck Taylors, and runs off with her father to see the universe.

Her mother jets in and out. Sometimes Brook jets off with her, her arm comfortably crooked through her mother's as they travel through time and space by means of a vortex manipulator acquired, no doubt, by somewhat dubious means. It's all very exciting.

She's known how to pilot the TARDIS since almost before she stopped speaking exclusively in Baby, but naturally it takes a bit of coaxing to get her father to let her fly without making ten million _helpful suggestions_.

"You could be a bit less careless," he says, tapping his fingers against the railing.

"And you could stop leaving the brakes on just because it makes a cool noise," she fires back. She pats the console tenderly. "I'll never do that to you, my love. Cross my hearts."

The TARDIS lights glow happily warm for a moment, and the Doctor's face takes on a sour expression.

"Don't worry, Dad, she still loves you more," Brook laughs, and he just shakes his head.

They travel. They go to an opera house in the fifty-third century where the music floats in the air around them like stardust, then they hit up a string of museums in the fortieth, the thirty-second, and the nineteenth. The universe is just as wide and ridiculous as he has always told her it is. There's a five-dimensional planet, a planet where the inhabitants have two heads, a planet where the main mode of travel is a giant whirlwind, even a moon populated by frog-people. There is also quite a bit of running, really, but she loves every second of it.

They run into a spot of trouble on a planet somewhere on the outskirts of the Rutan system when her father tries to talk a platoon of Sontarans out of continuing a war that's been going on for thousands of years.

Her mother always says that there's a time for talking, a time for running, and, of course, a time for shooting things. She figures that the time for shooting things is probably best reserved for moments when they're completely surrounded by a hostile alien army that values death in battle over surrender, which is to say, moments like the one they are currently living.

He really might have ducked when she told him to. That, or not worn the bowler hat today. Possibly both.

"How many times have I told you?" he demands, tossing the tattered remains of his hat aside as they run from the Sontarans. "Guns! Shooting! Terrible habit!"

He pulls them into a room at the end of the corridor and sonics the door so it's locked, which turns out to be both a good idea and a bad idea. Good, because it momentarily stops the platoon chasing them; bad, because it seals the deadlock on the door on the opposite side of the room, which is, naturally, their only escape route. After a few useless attempts to sonic the other door open, he turns to shake a finger at her.

"If you weren't so trigger happy," he begins, and she rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.

"Can we save the lecture until we're not in mortal peril, please?"

He gestures wildly. "There's always time for a lecture!"

The door to the corridor rattles. The Sontarans are breaking through.

"There's still time for a lecture," he grumbles.

"Fine! I'll take care of this one, shall I," she says, clearing her throat. "Let's see, you'd start with, Andromeda Brook, you can't go around shooting things all the time, guns are bad and dangerous and not toys, then, oh, throw in a line about how I get that from my mother, add something about peace and justice and Responsibility To The Universe Thanks To My Genetics, conclude with a pithy phrase that you've just made up and slap a rule number on it. There. Consider me lectured," she says, firing off a warning shot behind them without looking. "Can we go?"

"I'd love to, but the doors are locked, in case you've forgotten," he huffs.

"No, they're not, she says, tucking her gun into its holster. "I just shot the control panel. Overrides the deadlock."

"Oh. Why didn't you just say so? I don't sound like that, by the way," he adds. He sonics the exit door open.

"Of course not, Dad," she replies, and grabs his hand as they run back to the TARDIS.


End file.
